


Momento

by CherriesJubilee (Cherries_Jubilee)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Friends to Enemies, Not Canon Compliant, Reunions, headcanons galore, stories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:00:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23833495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cherries_Jubilee/pseuds/CherriesJubilee
Summary: McCree finds himself dumped at the feet of the leader of the infamous Deadlock Rebels. She isn’t interested in her revenge, for some reason.Tagged with violence because so descriptions of injuries are a bit gorey.
Relationships: Elizabeth Caledonia Ashe & Jesse McCree
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Momento

**Author's Note:**

> Full of my personal headcanons. If something doesn’t line up with the original lore, that’s on me.

Jesse stares down the barrel of Viper. The guys who brought him in had been dismissed, he assumed it was because Ashe didn’t want them to see her splatter McCree’s brains against the wall of the warehouse. He clenched his eyes shut in anticipation.

“Fuck.” Ashe muttered, so low Jesse barely heard it. He opened his eyes to see her uncock her gun and toss it aside, all rage in her eyes dissipated. “You’re a real piece of shit, y’know?” Her voice quavered. If Jesse hadn’t known her so well, he wouldn’t have noticed. But he knew what it meant.

“I’m sorry. For leaving.”

Ashe sniffled, covering her eyes with her arm. “I’m sorry, too. I dragged you down with me. I don’t blame you for taking that job.”

Jesse wanted to embrace his ex-friend, but he still had coarse rope keeping his wrists behind his back. Liz noticed and pulled out her pocket knife, working the ropes loose. She gently tapped his cybernetic arm. “This is new. How’d you get it?”

He sighed, rubbing his flesh wrist. “That’s a long story.”

“We’ve got time. Tell me.” She sat down next to him, holding his cybernetic hand, tracing the palm.

_He’d been a vigilante for a while. Built up a reputation, too. Dead-eye, a great shot with a strong moral code. People idolized him, which he hated. Anyone should have been doing what he was, stopping muggings and assaults. Of course, no one would anymore. To busy being scared, hope that died with Overwatch. He visited a small diner, just to get a bite to eat, when a pair of masked robbers came running in. Jesse pulled down his hat to obscure his identity and reached for Peacekeeper. They had pistols, and the cashier anxiously pulled bills out of the register. He cocked the hammer of his revolver, catching their attention. “Drop ‘em.” Jesse ordered._

_One guy whispered to the other, “Is that Dead-eye? We gotta get outta here...” The other was undisturbed._

_“Or what?” He snarled._

_Without even looking in their direction, he shot the thief in the leg. He cried out in pain, dropping his weapon and falling to the ground. The other one ran out, not willing to get caught. Still determined to get away, the injured robber limped out, while Jesse groaned and walked out after him. He was accompanied by someone with more skill, apparently, because a large man on a hover bike sped towards Jesse. Jesse rolled out of the way, but the wanna-be thug wanted revenge. He had the driver turn the bike around, rushing at Jesse again._

_This time, Jesse didn’t notice in time. He was knocked to the ground, and the wheel went straight through the center part of his forearm. Jesse yelled in pain, his arm had to be broken. The injury was twisted horribly, in a way that suggested advanced medicine would be necessary, which right now, Jesse couldn’t afford._

_By now, police had arrived, and arrested the two criminals on the hover bike, but Jesse was long gone. His injury became so infected, that he paid some low-life illegitimate doctor to remove it. The cybernetic replacement was annoying at first, but eventually he got used to it. He didn’t miss feeling things with it, though._

Liz’s eyes were wide, and she embraced him tightly. “That’s... I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “Not your fault. Happens out here, I suppose. ‘Sides, the guy got caught.” Jesse pointed at the robotic covering on her own arm. “That looks like a story, too.”

“Not near as darin’ or honorable as yours, though. Kinda lame, honestly.”

“I don’t care. Like you said, we got all the time in the world.”

_The job looked easy. In, out, done. But then, that was also how she’d lost Jesse. An easy tip, that turned out to be a sting operation. Regardless, she took it. Steal a crate of military grade technology, and deliver it to a client. Paid well enough._

_Two guys loaded the crate into the truck when she noticed something was off. Scuffling, almost, outside. A high pitched beep went off, and she knew exactly what it was. Being a weapons dealer gave her extensive knowledge of many types of explosives, so she knew what this was. She knew it had to potential to kill everyone there._

_“Get down!” She shouted, sprinting to one guy standing far too close to the wall. The moment the boom sounded, she collided with him, knocking him to the ground, her on top of him. When the dust settled, and they recovered enough, Liz noticed her arm was trapped beneath a piece of rubble. The guy she tackled scrambled out from under her and ran for help. She got out, arm seriously injured, and they retreated back to base._

_It was broken, and when the cast came off, a permanently red, ugly scar marred her pale arm. It proved to be a liability, too, since her arm was weak and the nerve damage made it so twisting her arm the wrong way incredibly painful. So, she turned to an underground prosthetics guy she knew. He made her a gauntlet that would strengthen and protect her arm from further damage and pain. It was removable, meaning that every night, she got to look at the awful scar left behind. They don’t take transport jobs anymore._

Jesse gently rubbed the metal of her cybernetic. “It’s fitting.” He said, “Gives you a tough look.”

Liz chuckled. “Glad you like it.”

“Can I see the scar?”

She chewed her lip, but nodded. Liz reaches up and clicked a button, and with a hiss the cybernetic disconnected. A discolored white patch showed where a chunk of skin was lost on her forearm, and the entire arm was painted with white lines up and down, like a spiderweb. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s ugly and useless.” She spat.

“No,” Jesse ran his fingertips along the ornate scar, carefully enough that it didn’t hurt her. “You’re a survivor.”

Liz flopped her head onto his shoulder. “So are you.”

He sighed, petting Liz’s short hair. It was still midnight outside. “We made it this far.”

She laughed dryly. “For some reason, the universe can't kill us. But dammit, it’s gonna try.”

At some point, the talking must have turned to dozing, because Liz woke up to morning sunshine and a note, along with a single revolver bullet.

> “A momento to survival. Keep going, Lizzie.
> 
> -McCree
> 
> (P.S. Grow your hair out again, I know you loved it long. It was very beautiful.)

She laughed to herself, wiping a tear from her eye. Tucking the bullet into her pocket, she reattached the metal covering to her arm, and collected her gun. Liz would keep in surviving, and so would Jesse. Maybe their paths would cross again.

At this rate, it wouldn’t be long before they did. She wanted to be around when it did happen, so she’ll keep on fighting. Now she’ll do it with long white hair pulled back in a ponytail, and a silver chain around her neck with two bullets on it: One from Jesse’s Peacekeeper, and one from her own Viper.

A momento, to survival.


End file.
